


All the Sons of the Earth

by stupidsexysock



Category: Valheim (Video Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Birth, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, if these weird monsters count as beasts, possible noncon in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29973063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidsexysock/pseuds/stupidsexysock
Summary: Hugin's neck feathers ruffled up and settled down again. It was, Ulf though, as close as the raven could get to a shrug. "All things are possible through seithr," the bird said, its beak clacking on every word. "If you wish to try, you can change your form to one that better pleases the monsters here.""I'd like to try," Ulf said. He remembered the raven's promise that he could not truly die here. Hunger would not kill him, age would not touch him, even wounds would only stop him for a time. "How do I change my body?""Only remember that you wished for it, and you'll have it. But be warned, warrior. It will be no less arduous than fighting them, and you'll suffer more for it."-Tasked with slaying Odin's enemies to clear the way for human habitation in Valheim, one warrior chooses another way to placate the beasts.
Relationships: Original Male Character/eikthyr, Original male character/the elder
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	All the Sons of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Some silly little porn shorts I'm writing while playing Valheim. I'll add more as I run across new enemies (if I ever get out of the swamp!)

Ulf stood in the meadow, sun-warmed grass under his bare feet, and watched the raven watching him. Hugin turned his great black head this way and that, fixing him with his glowing eyes, as if he only needed the right perspective to understand Ulf's question.

"Odin would have you fight his enemies," Hugin said.

"I only wanted to know if there was any other way to appease them," Ulf said. "To please them, so they would stop troubling the world so much."

His memories of Midgard, home of mortals, were as hazy as a distant shore seen through fog. He remembered little of his life there. Even his name was in question; perhaps he truly had been named after a mighty wolf, or perhaps he'd only attached significance to a rug or a cloak or a childhood story. When he tried to conjure up the feeling of a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he could only muster the faintest sense of weight. And yet he remembered that he'd been hailed as a great diplomat. He'd won victories by negotiation, by understanding what men wanted most. Often, he recalled, they'd wanted his body.

Hugin's neck feathers ruffled up and settled down again. It was, Ulf though, as close as the raven could get to a shrug. "All things are possible through seithr," the bird said, its beak clacking on every word. "If you wish to try, you can change your form to one that better pleases the monsters here."

"I'd like to try," Ulf said. He remembered the raven's promise that he could not truly die here. Hunger would not kill him, age would not touch him, even wounds would only stop him for a time. "How do I change my body?"

"Only remember that you wished for it, and you'll have it. But be warned, warrior. It will be no less arduous than fighting them, and you'll suffer more for it."

Ulf nodded. Hugin took off in a flurry of black wings. Ulf went to the center of the stone circle and stood looking up at the carved likenesses of Odin's enemies. He touched each in turn, wondering how the lines etched in stone translated to life. The rock was sun-warmed to the temperature of skin under his fingertips.

The raven had left him with no further instructions. He wanted for a while. collecting stone and flint and branches, until he had a simple axe and a simple campfire. The first few days of his stay in Valheim were occupied with building a simple hut, its roof covered in thatch, its beams roughly hewn from beech wood.

When he finally had a bed, he lay down on it and tried to wish for the solution the raven had promised him. The strange magic of Valheim twisted around him and settled between his legs. He reached into his rag trousers and felt the contents. His cock was still there, but in place of his balls was a warm hair-covered furrow. He parted the lips with his finger, exploring deeper, until he found the hole he was looking for. It felt at once expected and unfamiliar. He realized that he could not remember whether he'd had a cock or a cunt on Midgard. For a moment he was dizzy with the realization of how much of himself he had lost. Then the feeling passed, and he explored himself more thoroughly. With one hand, he pushed into the wet warmth of his cunt. With the other, he stroked his cock. Both movements felt equally natural. Such was the power of Odin's magic.

It took time to prepare for his first mission. Ulf hunted wild boars, deer, and the scuttling neck. He gathered berries and piled them all in a chest. In Valheim, meat never spoiled and berries never rotted. He could roast up a whole deer and eat it at his leisure.

At last, he felt that he was as ready as he was going to get for his first trial. The shrine of Eikthyr was a simple place, only a rough stone altar and a runestone and a carved statue of a deer. When he'd first found the runestone, it read _Hunt his kin._ Now, the red letters had changed to _Bear his kin._

Ulf stripped off his rags and approached the altar. The morning was young, and the stone was still cool beneath his fingers. He hesitated, wondering if he was making the right choice. It wasn't too late to turn back and craft a knife instead. He lowered his chest to the bare stone, with his legs spread to expose his cunt, and said, "All right, Eikthyr, I'm here for the taking."

The deer appeared in a crash of thunder. It was to a deer what a whale was to a fish, its antlers as wide as the spread of a tree, swinging with broken chains. It charged toward the altar, its red eyes mad and its horns crackling with lightning. Ulf dig his fingernails into the rock and willed himself to stay still. Even if he died, he'd only wake up again in his straw bed.

The deer circled him, its mad eyes rolling. He craned his neck, but could not see it when it was behind him. He felt a hot breath on his back, a nose snuffling so close to his rear that a spark jumped over and shocked him on the bare meat of his ass. He could smell the beast from this distance. It had the same sharpness as a nearby lighting strike, the odor of the very air splitting in two.

The deer reared over him and came down with its front legs on the stone of the altar. Its bulk settled over Ulf's back. It wasn't quite a crushing weight, but even if he'd wanted to move now, there was no way he could budge so much as an inch. He felt the pressure of the beast's cock at his entrance, sliding in with less resistance than he'd expected. Ulf hadn't thought he'd be so wet, but something about the deer's commanding presence had compelled him. His cock was hard too, though he had no way of reaching it now.

Eikthyr thrust in deep, making Ulf yelp, and began to pump away without waiting for him to adjust. He could feel the beast's huge balls slapping against his backside. Its breath was hot against the back of his neck, a humid heat like the air before a storm. Now and then a spark crackled off its fur onto his skin. He was pinned completely, and so full he could hardly stand it. He needed to come, but he teetered on the edge of climax without reaching it.

Eikthyr bellowed as it came, filling Ulf with gouts of seed. It sighed and settled over him, leaving Ulf desperate and unable to do anything about it. It finally heaved itself up and started to withdraw. Ulf slithered backward off the rock as soon as his arms were freed. He turned, supporting himself on the stone, since his legs felt weak. The beast's seed ran down his thighs as he pumped his cock to completion.

Then, it was back to his life in the meadow. He worked on expanding his hut into a proper home. Eikthyr continued to roam, undefeated. Sometimes the deer watched him from a distance as he chopped wood and gathered stones. Sometimes it followed him, snorting and pawing at the ground, until he let it take him again.

Time passed differently in this place. Within a week, Ulf's belly was beginning to round out. The beast inside him grew swiftly. Soon enough, he realized that he was racing against its growth. Though he couldn't starve in this place, he could still go hungry, and he'd need every bit of strength he could muster to push this thing out of him.

His belly expanded with his stockpile of food. By two weeks, he had a difficult time drawing his bow or bending enough to knife a boar. By the third week, even walking to pick berries was becoming a challenge. He'd split his rag tunic and stitched more fabric in the front twice, and still he was expanding. The fourth week he spent mainly in bed, with his hands pressed to his stretched belly. The thing inside him kicked with a force that left him breathless. When he did go outside, Eikthyr trailed him as though he were a doe in its harem.

He'd managed to make it perhaps two miles from his hut when the first labor pain took him. Ulf grunted, clutching at his belly. The raven's warning had been truthful. He'd died here once at the hands of a greydwarf, and this hurt as much as that, without the relief of death at the end of it. When the pain passed, he stood and looked back in the direction he'd come from. The fastest route was up a steep slope, but he wasn't sure he could climb it in his condition. He'd had to take the long way around and stay close to the shore.

Eikthyr trailed him from a distance as he alternated between walking and stopping to moan through a fresh contraction. His water broke, soaking his rag trousers with fluid that smelled like fresh rain. Ulf had only made it halfway home when he realized he wouldn't make it at all. He had to stop and push, and hope that Eikthyr kept his enemies away.

He struggled out of his trousers and squatted, clutching his belly and trying not to cry out. The thing inside him was moving out, but it was a painfully slow process. The strangest part was that in spite of the pain his cock was hard, and leaking onto the stretched skin of him belly. With each contraction, he felt more wetness spreading there.

He rolled onto his hands and knees when his legs could hold him no longer. The sun was starting to drop in the sky. He pushed with as much might as he could, muffling his screams by biting down on the handle of his knife. Eikthyr's spawn was stretching his hole impossibly wide. He couldn't possibly get it out. But still it came, inch by torturous inch. Its head came out of him, then its front legs. Ulf collapsed onto his side, groaning and pushing weakly through each contraction, until at last with a final heave he felt the thing's back legs slide out of him.

He lay in the twilight, panting, watching the light dancing off Eikthyr's horns as he came closer. He'd birthed a fawn as monstrous as its sire. Eikthyr bent its head to lick it clean. Ulf sighed and lay back. He could already feel Valheim's strange magic healing him. The fawn struggled to its feet, its eyes already open, emitting a soft red light. It followed its father into the dusk. Ulf looked at the ground and saw a curved shape. Eikthyr had shed one of its antlers. He picked it up, got to his feet, and began to walk home.


End file.
